


As she helpless drifts to sea

by misgivings



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lovecraft Fusion, Drowning, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mental Coercion, Mommy Issues, One-Sided Roxy Lalonde/Dirk Strider, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misgivings/pseuds/misgivings
Summary: Roxy was dreaming of MILFs again.
Relationships: The Condesce/Roxy Lalonde
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22
Collections: HSCCS Promptfest 2020





	As she helpless drifts to sea

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HSCCSPromptfest2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HSCCSPromptfest2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> roxy is an offering to an elder god beneath the waves
> 
> HIC is lonely, cruel, and possesive

Roxy was dreaming of MILFs again.

  
  
It started the same way as all the dreams of her mom, which was pretty common by now. Her house was the same as it always was, but anchored squarely on terra firma instead of bobbing with the waves. The landscape was indistinct northeastern forests from before the world went to shit. It was where, she imagined, she could have grown up with her mother if reality had been kinder. It was palpably real sometimes, but in today's dream it was imperfect. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the breeze and smell the sea.

  
  
Roxy was sitting on the edge of the observatory, where in real life she came to drag up her fishing nets. Of course, in the context of the dream she was just idly sitting here. She imagined she must be waiting for mom to make dinner. That explained the smell of fish. 

  
  
A voice called from downstairs. It was certainly her mom's voice, but in dreams things could be so distorted and unreal. Still, she followed it inside.

  
  
As she came down the stairs the seawater smell got stronger, and when she reached the bottom she saw why—the house had flooded, and there was a few inches of fetid water. Roxy stepped into it anyway and kept going to the kitchen. Sometimes in her nightmares the water rose up and the house didn't float. She and her mom would say their goodbyes and just let the ocean take them.

  
  
In the kitchen was...definitely not her mom. From behind she could barely make out anything, because the woman had a thick mass of oily black hair that was reminiscent of seaweed and seemed to shift and swish like a current was washing over it. The lady had the same figure as pictures of her mom, and Roxy shivered a little. She certainly had a type. Was this going to be a less fucked up wet dream where at least it was just one of Roxy's imagined sexy babes, and not a distressing facsimile of her mom?

  
  
"Uh, excuse me, I think you might be in the wrong house." Roxy said without thinking, and the woman turned around. From the back she looked like she was wearing some kind of slick wetsuit, but now Roxy could see the woman was naked. And her skin was nothing like a person, or even anything that belonged to the land—it reminded her of a dolphin, but nearly flawless black.

She could barely make out her facial features from this distance, but as she stepped closer she could tell this lady was utterly gorgeous, even by the standards of the hot dream babes Roxy imagined. Unlike them, she wasn't just an amalgam of her mom and the ladies she'd seen in copies of Playboy that Dirk traded her for pumpkins. The inhuman lady was sexy and alien and novel. And completely stacked. Dream Roxy had no shame about staring.

  
  
"Nah, I'm afraid this belongs to me now. All of it." She nodded to the water at her ankles, which in this room had a thick oily scum on top, utterly obscuring sight. Roxy felt suddenly very unwelcome.

  
  
"An' I think I might just decide you belong to me too." The creature grinned with a mouthful of daggers like an anglerfish. Parts of her great tangled mass of hair seemed to move on their own, and she realised there were tentacles among them that she hadn't noticed. 

  
  
Roxy tried to run, but the ground under her feet wasn't tile anymore but sucking mud that she had to fight to even move. She got one foot free, sans shoe, and tried to retreat for the stairs, but thrashing against the mud and water had sapped all the strength from her. The monster came up behind her and snared her in those tentacles. They felt coarse and rubbery, with powerful boneless muscle under the surface. They coiled around her limbs like snakes, and seemed anchored to an immovable weight. Roxy looked back at the smiling woman.   


  
"Come to me, kid. You'll sea it my way when you join me." She whispered in a sultry tone, and sunk into the water, dragging Roxy down with her. She fought and thrashed and screamed, barely getting a lungful of air before being pulled into the lightless inky depths. She fought the tentacles until her chest burned for air, and tried to look up for the surface. There was no telltale shimmer, not even the weak insinuation of moonlight dancing on the waves. She was utterly doomed, and out of time. She couldn't hold any longer—she gasped for air on instinct, and her airway flooded with brackish water. Her eyelashes twitched as she fought for consciousness, and then slid shut.

* * *

TG: u ever have weird fuckin dreams?

TT: I never have weird anything, Roxy. I'm a paragon of mental health.

TT: What happened? More fantasies about the late miss Lalonde?

TG: lol i wish

TG: it kinda started like one of em tho

TG: where im in my home but how i imagine it was when she lived in it?

TG: but this time it was kinda in between where the downstairs was flooded with gross swampy water

TG: but thats not important there was this weird bitch in ma kitchen and she told me to join her and dragged me into the water

TT: That’s not especially weird, Roxy. 

TT: Have you been feeling suicidal? Not to get all psycho-bullshit, but that dream has a pretty obvious connotation.

TG: dirky baby dont u start worrying abt me

TG: i aint even been drinkin for like two weeks

TG: which now that i think bout it is how long ive been having these vivid creepy dreams

TG: like this one where my mom told me i did super good on my test so i was getting a reward

TG: like as if we got to be normal kids and go to school? so anyway the reward like i was saying

TT: I’ll pass on the details. I need a shower. Handle the weird desires in your head however you need.

TT: Do you want me to put on the auto-responder?

TG: now just what is that supposed to mean lol

TT: You woke up from an intense dream about a hot girl. Maybe you need him to take your mind off things.

TT: Preferably while I'm in the shower and it's not my problem.

TG: i never said she was hot!

TT: We know how your brain works. It's an educated guess.

One embarrassing flirtlarp campaign later, Roxy retired to the shower. Despite everything she tried, she couldn't keep her mind where she wanted it: in the realm of dorky, questionably legal brain copies of a hunky anime dude. And now in the heat of the shower, her mind's eye was dominated by the figure of the dream monster.

She could imagine her in incredible detail, a perfect mental snapshot. There were details she hadn't dwelled on in her dream, like the tantalising curve of her ass, the momentum of her chest when she spun around. Her build, skinny shoulders and waist but lethally strong arms and legs. Roxy felt her heart tighten at the thought—was this fear? Something else?

No amount of steaming heat could burn away the thoughts, nor the heat she could feel under her stomach. Roxy turned down the temperature to something bearable and grabbed the shower head, intending to dismiss these feelings another way. She braced carefully in the corner so she wouldn't slip, and pressed the showerhead between her legs.

“You're a nasty gil. I can't wait to get my hands on you.”

Roxy jumped a bit in surprise. The voice...hadn't come from anywhere. Had she imagined it? Imagined the babe she couldn't get out of her mind saying that to her? A chill ran over her skin. Despite being used to utmost privacy, the way she was splayed out in the shower now felt utterly voyeuristic. She turned away from the curtain and curled into the corner like she could hide herself. With a knuckle shoved between her teeth, she fought to be as silent as possible while riding waves of pulsing water.

The voice didn't come back, but she couldn't forget it either. Towelling off after her shamefully long shower, she wandered into her room and checked her laptop. No reply from Dirk, and even AR hadn't left any naughty messages for her. They must be conspiring on something. She sighed. How hard could it be to get attention from the only boy in the world?

Roxy crawled into bed feeling pathetic, sliding her earbuds in and drowning out her thoughts with eardrum-crushing electronic noise. She didn't want to sleep. She just wanted to sort of not think for a while.

She didn't even know how she ended up on the rooftop. It was like sobering up from one of her benders and piecing together clues to figure out what she'd done. But her mind was totally clear from intoxicants, much as she wanted to crack into some vodka and forget. Instead, her afterglow endorphins and music had let her enter some kind of fugue. It was fucking stellar, honestly, to be so out of it without drinking.

Roxy pulled out her headphones and dropped them to the roof. The ocean was being whipped up by the wind, and she could hear it crashing on the floating city almost deafeningly loud. Nothing was as black as the ocean could be under a moonless night like tonight. Edges of waves caught only the barest glimmer of ancient starlight to give them definition. The water was an utter void, like the vastness of interplanetary space, and just as inhospitable. Looking into it was indistinguishable from closing her eyes. If it wasn't for the sound—reminding her of the inexorable power of the waves—she could believe she was out in the stars themselves.

“Come to me, beach. You need me bad.” The voice was back, and clearer than earlier. It was sultry, low and whispering like a lover pressed close in the dark. And intoxicatingly hot. The phantom words sent tingles radiating out to her fingertips. She felt giddy. Was she sure she wasn't drunk?

“Forget Dirk. You need a reel woman to take care of you.” Roxy found herself wandering to the edge, staring down. The voice got clearer and louder as she followed it. By the time her toes were curled over the lip of her roof, the unreal noise filled her whole existence.

“Good. Now jump.”

Roxy threw herself mindlessly off the roof. It felt like a dream. What did it matter if she did? It was only when she belly flopped onto the water she snapped out of it. A stint blossomed over her body and was quickly drowned in the bitter cold. Her lizard consciousness in the back of her skull kept her alive by demanding her limbs flail and kick, until she was treading water. Her body was shuddering hard as it tried to produce enough waste heat to keep her from shutting down, but it was sapping all her strength to just float.

Something caught around her ankle and she screamed. It was shrill at first, total shock, and then the pain bloomed. There was the sensation like a million tiny needles piercing her, and then a burning agony sprung to life where the fronds brushed her skin. She turned from crying out in surprise to howling like a dying animal, especially when the tentacle  _ squeezed _ . She flailed like she was being electrocuted until every muscle burned, but she couldn't break free. The pain was so intense that she would have hacked her own leg off to end it.

When the tentacle tugged, there was no fight left in Roxy. She let out a sob as the sheer burning, prickling agony eclipsed all control of her body. She didn't even close her mouth when it pulled her under the water, not until she already had a mouthful of salt water and almost no breath to work with.

She tried to reach for her leg now that she was under the water anyway, and instantly regretted it—it was like touching a white-hot filament, her fingers burning with rashes as soon as she touched the offending tentacle. As she fought to devise an escape, she was running out of air. Her vision blurred. It was so dark, and she didn't even know which way was up or how far it was to the surface. Her lungs burning, she relented and took a breath of ocean. At least the pain would go.

Dirk probably wouldn't miss her anyway.

* * *

Roxy woke up coughing hard, hunched over on some cold and unyielding surface. She couldn't see a single thing, but it felt like stone. And she could breathe. Her fingertips and leg felt sore and she could feel the swelling of a rash, but it didn't remotely compare to the mind-shattering pain of the stingers, so intense she shuddered at the memory. She would have cried if her body wasn't so tired and cold.

Feeling along the floor, she realised she was in some kind of damp cavern. Her clothes were utterly sodden, and she pushed them off before she caught a cold. No sense dying to something pathetic like that after surviving.

She told herself it had been suicide. The alternative was illogical and fucking terrifying. She had tried to kill herself, gotten caught in some jellyfish, and somehow survived. Maybe she got washed into a natural cave. On the surface? No...there wasn't much surface  _ left _ , and her ears felt funny. It must be the pressure difference, meaning she was deep underwater and the air in this bubble was correspondingly dense.

Turning around, her eyes made out tiny pinpricks of light. Little pink spots of bioluminescence. She crawled towards it, praying it was some kind of fungus. If she adjusted to the light, could she navigate out of here? Her eyes  _ did  _ adjust, but she wished they wouldn't.

It was the woman from her dreams. In all her slick, shadowy glory. Her skin was covered in dots of pink light, and when she noticed Roxy those spots flared and cast the cavern in a dim, unnatural glow. She grinned—with her nightmarish rows of needle teeth.

“Welcome, babe. Make shoreshellf at home! You won't exactly be going anywhere soon.” She said, creeping closer. Roxy flinched and rolled away, retreating to the corner she'd woken in.

“Oh my fucking god???? What in the everloving  _ shit _ are you, you crazy bitch?” Roxy sat up and grabbed a fist-sized rock. As if it could defend her.

“Your new god. The empress of this depressing rock. You can jus’ call me Meenah. Or mommy.” She tossed her hair, a distressingly human gesture.

“You've been in my dreams.” Roxy said. Not a question. There was no doubt left.

“Yeah, your dreams were totally succulent. I couldn't help but interfere.” She slithered closer. Despite her legs, she was content to propel herself the short distance with a mass of squiggling flagella. Roxy would have screamed if her throat wasn't so hoarse—she just sobbed weakly in fear and curled up, hiding her face.

“Look at me. Sea this face, this bod? I wasn't always this way, but at the beginning of the end I absorbed the human you call your mom. I've been watching your dreams. I can feel her love for you.”

“My mom?” Roxy looked up, eyes watering.

“Don't get me wrong, she's just the bait. To catch a little fishie like you.” Meenah slid closer, cornering her until she pressed into the wall to avoid being touched. Any one of those tentacles could be the one that sparked more agony.

“What do you fucking  _ want _ with me, you bitch?” Roxy yelled, flinging the rock and turning her face away. If the projectile hit anything, it didn't make a sound.

“Nobody ever told me I would be so lonely after wiping everyone out. I want something to keep me company. It's been so long since I saw a human, and I'm going to enjoy seaing how far your limits go.” 

A surge of tentacles pushed onto Roxy and slammed her into the wall like a tidal wave. There were more stinging tendrils among them, and they were insistent in crawling over her skin. She screamed her throat dry until an inky, salty limb pushed between her teeth and into her throat. Her skin was singing with the burning pain of her sting, but at least those tentacles hadn't gone near her face.

Instead, one of those stingers pushed between Roxy’s legs, eager to explore. In that moment, helpless to scream, she simply wished to any god listening that she'd never been born.

The only god listening was cruel, and curious. She didn't stop until Roxy passed out from shock.

* * *

“You fascinate me. I've been watching your dreams.” Her captor said, the first thing she heard as she woke up. She was face-down in something soft. Nuzzling it gave Roxy a pretty solid impression she was lying in the outer god’s tits.

“They're fantastically dirty. I watch you dream of Dirk, the fantaseas you have that he can never give you. And then you dream of your mom, who would give you anyfin but isn't around to do it.” As she talked, Roxy could hear the hints of Rose in her patterns and tone. How much of that was just to taunt her?

Her body felt utterly ruined. Every part of her tingled with hot rashes, and her joints hurt from fighting the merciless bondage of tentacles. Every time she blacked out she wanted it to be for the last, but the empress had a way of making sure she always recovered. Occasionally there were dreams, but usually she followed Roxy into her nightmares and inflicted more tortures on her.

The worst part was that she didn't want to move. Meenah felt fucking gorgeous, soft in all the places she wanted. A little too cool to the touch, but in a pleasant way like the cold side of a pillow. And her hand—almost human except for the lack of wrinkles and nails—was always stroking through her hair or across her back in that soothing way of hers.

Roxy told herself she was conserving energy. No need to fight until she got in the sadistic mood. But part of her was genuinely getting used to this, and she hated that. One of Meenah’s hands touched her inner thigh and she flinched.

“You gonna let me fuck ya right? I just wanna make ya cum. If you fight me again…” Roxy knew what would happen if she did. Instead of a soft hand, the empress would fuck her callously with one of her stingers, and those soothing hands would be put to use beating and twisting—something they happened to be equally adept at.

Tonight she didn't fight. Meenah had watched how Roxy touched herself for a long time, and knew every weakness. The sensation of her hand was strange, like getting fondled by a rubber glove, but the precision and determination distracted her from that. As those inhumanly long fingers curled, hit Roxy’s weak spot, she realised she was broken. The fight was gone. Her lips parted for just a single desperate word before she came.

“Mommy.”

* * *

TT: I’ve been thinking about the dreams, Roxy. I'm no stranger to disconcerting sea food imagery, but I realised I'd just come to see it as normal after a lifetime of it.

TT: Dave left some info about it. Explained the nightmares he and Rose had, and his preferred way of dealing with it.

TT: Let’s just say your mom didn't leave all that booze just to taunt you, okay?

TT: For whatever reason it's the perfect insulator against them getting into your mind.

TT: Specifically, the one you're dreaming of is Meenah, the first and most beloved daughter of ol’ Shubby.

TT: I think.

TT: I’m not normally the fucking Cthulhu scholar, okay? But you seemed freaked out. You can thank me later.

TT: Or now, actually.

TT: Roxy?

TT: I realise you've probably gone and gotten drunk. That's the best outcome, ironically. Sorry for making you out to be a shameful alcoholic in the past.

TT: Tell me when you wake up. We can watch a movie.


End file.
